Solid stone is just sand and water, baby
by thegirl20
Summary: Charity goes with Vanessa to identify Frank's body.


_It's different to how it is on telly. _

That's the thought that goes through Charity's mind as they're guided into a small viewing room at the mortuary. There's no wall of fridges and they don't yank the body out of what looks like a filing cabinet. It's all very civilised, really. Like a waiting room at the dentist. Only there's a really big window covered by a curtain.

There's more talking than she'd expected an'all. The doctor or pathologist or whatever he is talks them through what's going to happen. Not that Charity's really listening to what he's saying. She's more focused on the whiteness of Vanessa's knuckles where her fingers are wrapped around Charity's own. On the firm set of her jaw and mouth, so stoic and strong.

Vanessa had talked and talked on the drive down, barely stopping for breath. She'd gone on about how she was used to dead things. How she's touched them, tended to them. That she'd be fine with this because she knows it's not her dad, not really. It's just the place where he used to be. It'd be fine, she'd said. She's used to dead things. Charity had wanted to say that it's maybe not quite the same thing. But Vanessa had just kept babbling and it didn't feel like there was a place to interject, really. So she'd let her carry on, occasionally reaching over to give her leg a squeeze at traffic lights.

Now they're stood here in front of this window and Charity's not sure that it's going to be fine at all.

"Are you ready?" The bloke's looking at Vanessa, but Vanessa's eyes are trained on the curtain so she doesn't notice.

"Babe?" Charity whispers, squeezing her hand. Vanessa's head jerks around, eyes unfocussed before meeting Charity's. Charity gives her a tight smile. "You ready?"

Vanessa swallows and blows out a shuddering breath, and nods once. The curtain starts to move as the bloke pulls it back and Vanessa's hand tightens around Charity's. Through the window, a second room was revealed. A woman was there, stood by a table or trolley thing covered in a sheet. Charity felt bile rise in her throat at the sight of the lump underneath the sheet. That lump was Frank. Frank who'd been doing her head in just yesterday, moping all over the place and not buying anything to drink. Making them sad puppy at her eyes that Vanessa's inherited. She can still see him. Still smell his aftershave. How can he just be an unmoving lump under a sheet?

Beside her, Vanessa's breathing has grown quicker, her eyes fixed on the sheet covered body. Charity lets go of her hand and wraps an arm around her shoulders, gripping firmly and trying to be as solid and present as Vanessa always has been for her.

"We're going to fold back the sheet now, just enough to reveal the face." Charity's eyes flick to the man. She knows it's his job, but she wishes he'd be just a _bit _less clinical about it. Say his name or something. "I'll need a verbal confirmation of identity and th-"

"Just do it," Vanessa says, words clipped and tight.

The man nods and the woman in the other room folds the sheet back, and Charity realises the bloke was right. It is just 'the face'. It's not Frank's face. There's nothing of Frank there, except skin hanging on a skull, slack and lifeless. Say what you like about Frank, but he always had something about him. Always a spark of mischief in his eyes, or a smile tugging at his lips.

Not now. Not anymore.

His eyes are closed, thank God, but his lips hang loose with no muscles to pull them into a cheeky grin. She'd always thought life could be seen in people's eyes, but lips with no tension to them are just as much of an indicator that there's no-one there. He looks older than Charity remembers. His grey hair, always so coiffed, is flat and dull. He'd hate that, Charity thinks, idly. She hopes someone sticks some Brylcreem in it before the funeral.

That's her last thought about Frank, because Vanessa lets out a noise Charity's never heard her make before. A keening, she's heard it described as in books. A sound so drenched in pain that it hurts to hear it. With it comes an overwhelming urge to make everything better, to drag Vanessa out of the room and hold her until it stopped hurting. Instead, Charity blinks her own tears away and tightens her grip on Vanessa's shoulder.

"Oh, dad." Vanessa's whisper is almost lost because she turns and presses herself against Charity, hiding her face in her shoulder. Charity's arms go around her automatically, one hand on the back of her head. "Please, _please_, cover him up. Make them cover him up, Charity. _Please_."

"Can you confir-"

"It's him," Charity says, glaring at him as she rubs Vanessa's back. "It's Frank Clayton. Is that all you need?"

"Yes, thank you."

He nods through to the woman, who lifts the sheet back over Frank's face as he starts to draw the curtain. Charity shudders in relief. She closes her eyes, pressing a kiss to Vanessa's temple.

"It's alright. It's over, babe. He's gone."

Vanessa nods, but doesn't lift her head. She's not crying, Charity notes. She's tense and hot puffs of breath are coming too quickly against the bare skin of Charity's chest, but she's not crying.

The guy steps away from the window, moving closer to them. "Thank you for doing that. I know it's not easy and I'm _very_ sorry for your loss. Please feel free to stay here and collect your thoughts. There's no rush, but I'll leave you in peace, if you have no other questions."

Charity nods at him, wondering again why any of this was even necessary. It's not like Frank was found in some back alley with no wallet on him. They'd all bloody stood there and watched him die. There was no flaming question over who he was. This whole thing just seems like bureaucracy gone mad. An exercise in causing pain.

Once they're alone, Vanessa lifts her head, slowly. It's like she's not quite sure if they were telling her the truth and she's worried the body's still on display. When she sees the curtain drawn, a little of the tension leaves her shoulders and she sniffs, looking up at Charity briefly, and then away.

"I'm sorry."

"Eh?" Charity frowns, gently bringing Vanessa's face back around. "What are you sorry for?"

"I was supposed to be strong," Vanessa whispers. A tear slips out of the side of her eye and Charity catches it with her thumb. "I wanted to be strong and do this for him."

"Hey," Charity soothes. "You were strong. You _are _strong."

Shaking her head, Vanessa wipes her nose. "You had to tell them it was him. I couldn't even do that."

"Don't be daft," Charity sighs and tugs Vanessa in again, wrapping both arms around her and squeezing. "Everything's a bit surreal at the moment, yeah? You've not had time to get your head round it. Nobody has. It's alright if you're a bit off-kilter."

Vanessa nods and pulls back, looking around the room. Her shoulders tense up again and she takes Charity's hand, looking up at her with plaintive eyes. "Can we go? I don't want to stay here. I want-"

"Course, babe," Charity says, already moving to the door. "Let's get you out into the fresh air, eh?"

They walk back to the car, in silence, Charity's arm firm around Vanessa's shoulders. When Charity starts the car, Vanessa's hand lands on hers on the brake. She looks over in question.

"I-I think I want to go up to the factory," Vanessa says.

"Really?" Charity frowns. "You sure?" She's not so sure that's a brilliant idea. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees Frank flying through the air. Hears the crunch of his body on the metal. Feels the fire on her face and smells the smoke.

"Yeah, I think so." Vanessa sighs. "That's where I last saw him. Last saw him smile."

Saw him _die_, Charity thinks. But she's no expert in grief or what you're supposed to feel, so she just nods. "The factory, then." She starts the car. "But if we get there, and you've changed your mind, we can just leave, okay?"

"Yeah, I know." Vanessa gives her a sad smile. "Thanks for coming here with me." She reaches for Charity's hand, threading their fingers together. "I needed you here."

Throat constricting, Charity tries to return the smile. She's still a bit in awe of Vanessa's ability to just say things like that. Things that, until fairly recently, Charity's had great difficulty in expressing. Needing people, needing support. It was always something Charity told herself never to show. Needing people meant they could let you down. It made you vulnerable. But she's learned it's okay to be vulnerable when you're with someone who'll protect you and keep you safe. And that Vanessa feels the same way about her just about blows her mind.

"That's what I'm here for, babe," she says. "For better or worse, yeah?"

"Can't get much worse than that, can it?" Vanessa asks.

"Then it has to get better," Charity tells lifts Vanessa's hand to her mouth and kisses her knuckles. "We'll get through this, me and you. And we'll be there for Tracy."

Vanessa nods, but her lip starts to tremble. "I wish I'd told him I loved him, yesterday." She shakes her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Last thing I said to him was some ridiculous cliché about one door opening and another one closing."

_That's unfortunate,_ Charity thinks, given that Tracy was trapped behind a locked door. But she just squeezes Vanessa's hand and lets her continue.

"He kissed me goodbye, and I wish I'd just said it then." Vanessa rolls her eyes. "'_I love you_', that's what I should have called after him."

"You weren't to know, were you?" Charity reminds her. "It's not like on The Waltons, babe. We don't all go around telling everybody we love them all the time."

"Well maybe we should say it a bit more than we do," Vanessa declares, with more life in her eyes than Charity's seen since yesterday. Vanessa leans across the brake and cups Charity's cheek, looking directly into her eyes. "I love you. I don't ever want there to be any doubt in your mind about that."

"There isn't," Charity assures her. "And there wasn't in Frank's mind, either. He knew you loved him." She tilts her head. "It's pretty hard to be loved by you and _not _notice, babe. So don't worry about that." She leans in and meets Vanessa's lips with her own in a chaste kiss. "And I love you an'all."

"I know," Vanessa says with a solemn nod. She sighs and sits back in her seat. "We best head off. I don't want to leave Tracy on her own too long."

Charity puts the car in gear and reverses out of the parking space. They drive in silence for a bit, until Vanessa breaks it.

"The funeral's the next thing that'll need doing." She sighs. "God, I never spoke to him about any of that stuff. What songs he'd want done or even if he'd want buried or-"

"Don't think about that for now," Charity tells her, looking both ways at a junction. "This morning's been enough for you to deal with. Just give yourself today, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

Charity knows from her tone of voice that she's just agreeing and that her mind will be working overtime trying to come up with funeral arrangements. She takes her hand and squeezes it. "I'll call Harriet and you and me and Trace can talk to her tomorrow. She'll have ideas, things that people have."

Vanessa hums in agreement, but turns to look out of the window, leaving them in silence. They're almost at the factory when she speaks again.

"He won't get to walk me down the aisle."

Charity's eyes close and she has to force them back onto the road. She hadn't even considered that. "Babe, I never even-"

But Vanessa's not finished. "He won't be at our wedding. He won't be there for the happiest day of my life. He won't see Johnny grow up. Or get to show him how to ride a bike. Or take him fishing." Her voice is breaking now. "Just like he never taught me to ride a bike. Or took me fishing. Or did anything but dip into my life whenever he felt like it and then buggered off again back to whatever-"

"Hey! Hey, come on," Charity pulls over to the side of the road and pulls the brake on. She turns to Vanessa and grabs her arm, forcing her around so they're facing each other. "I _know_ it's easier to be angry than to be sad, yeah? Nobody knows that better than me. But you don't want to do this now. You can't make it stop hurting by trying to remember the bad stuff, okay?"

There's a second where she thinks Vanessa's going to shout at her, or continue her rant, and either would be fine. But instead, and maybe for the first time since everything happened, a sob erupts out of Vanessa's throat, followed by another and another until she can barely breathe. Charity gathers her into her arms, rocking her as best she can in the awkward position.

"I m-miss him, Ch-Charity," Vanessa whimpers, brokenly. "I miss him already and he's barely gone."

"I know you do," Charity says, her own tears of empathy running freely down her face. "And there's nothing I can say or do to make that better right now." She draws back, covering Vanessa's cheek with her hand. "But it _will _get better, in time. And, while we get there, we'll talk about him and tell stories about him and laugh about his daft hair so that you and Johnny remember all the good times, yeah?"

"Yeah," Vanessa sniffles, rubbing at her face. "Sorry."

"Will you stop saying sorry?" Charity smiles and shakes her head. "Remember when nobody knew about Lisa but you and me? And you said that I never had to paint on a smile wiith you? That goes both ways, babe." She bumps her forehead against Vanessa's. "You feel whatever you feel, and you let it out however you want to let it out."

Vanessa nods and manages a quick smile. "Thank you."

"Right. The factory, then? Or back to Tracy?"

Inhaling through her nose, Vanessa nods. "The factory, just for a minute. Then back to Tracy." She shakes her head. "Poor love. I hope she's at least managed to move off the couch."

"We'll look out for her," Charity says, getting the car back onto the road. "We'll get her through it, me and you."

"Yeah, she needs folk around her right now," Vanessa agrees as they pull into the car park of the factory. She closes her eyes. "Right, best get this over with."

They get out of the car and Vanessa immediatley moves to Charity's side, wrapping an arm around her waist. Charity pulls her close and looks up at the smoldering building, still unsure this is a good idea. There's more people here than she'd thought there would be. Police and fire brigade are still milling about, but there's a good little crowd gathered and some flowers laid. She squeezes Vanessa's shoulder.

"Still sure about this?"

"No," Vanessa confesses. "But I feel like I need to." She looks up at Charity, eyes dull but determined. "And I can do it, because you're here.

Charity's heart lurches in her chest at that faith. She nods and tightens her grip on Vanessa's shoulder. "Right then. Let's go."


End file.
